


Tenderness (Part 3 of Thralls of the Hall Series)

by BroltaAMaga



Series: Thralls of the Hall [3]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroltaAMaga/pseuds/BroltaAMaga
Summary: Technically none of the main two lovers in this are from the show Vikings, but there are references to some of the Ragnarsson brothers and this is all set in Lagertha's queendom of Kattegat. This is the story of Bergljot and the massive Stigr, who are referenced in Eira and Hvitserk's story. In the first section, Stigr is very drunk and we see all of his inhibitions and personality flaws come out. Patience and tenderness brings out the real Stigr, hulking not only in his size and his Viking-ness, but also in his tenderness for the young Bergljot. She can tell there is a sweetheart behind the size, the toughness and she reaps the benefits.





	1. Sore and Intimidated

It’s not like you were a virgin. 

The head of the household you worked for, Tait, had three sons, Ulf, Unn and Rangvald. Tait had ignored you thankfully, being old and impotent, as his hag of a wife often yelled. Unn was already married, had a farm of his own, but Ulf had taken your virginity last month, down by the river as you were washing laundry. He must have told Rangvar about it, for the next night, the normally shy Rangvar who had never done anything beyond eye you as you worked, had slipped into the small alcove off the kitchen where you had a pallet and took you as well. You suspected both, at least Rangvar for sure, had also been virgins, Rangvar hardly knowing what went where and pouring himself into you with a surprised noise after just five thrusts. Your breasts ached at the memory of his overeager hands. Neither experience had been particularly good nor bad, although Ulf had pretty bad breath. 

But a hall full of celebrating, drunken, raucous Vikings was an entirely different experience than two harmless, undersexed teenage brothers toying with you and you'd been wide eyed and skittish in the hall all night. Hagen, the first man who’d taken you that night, thankfully, hadn't been bad, wasn't too rough. He’d bent you over a table in a private room, breathed in your ear that you were beautiful, pulled up your dress and finished quickly. He was bigger than the brothers, but not impossible to take and as you'd walked back down the hallway, you'd only felt a bit if not pleasantly sore. 

If that had been the end of the evening, you could have washed up and gone to bed feeling at least, safe and warm. Used yes, but undamaged and like you'd done your duty and honored the gods. 

Instead that first night in the hall ended for you late into the wee hours, with you exhausted, bruised, cut, and broken by confusion. And it all started with the quiet, immense form of the young Stigr Olafsson, lumbering past you in the hallway just after you left Hagen. He was light blonde, his hair braided neatly back off his face and his beard, long and tied up with two leather wraps, was nearly white. He was built as solid as a boat and nearly as large. The nearly nine foot tall shadow of him created by a wall torch helped the illusion. 

He was drunk, walking close to the wall, his shoulder occasionally brushing it for support. It only solidified the watercraft image in your mind, as he looked like he was pitching on waves. 

You were tired, admittedly afraid of him just for his size and tried to just scoot past. He'd slowly reached out through, his fingers brushing your shoulder. Nothing he had done was terrifying and yet, you were terrified. You took a deep breath, tried to convince yourself he was just big like many Viking, that was nothing necessarily to be afraid of. He was drunk, yes, but not loud and brash like Hagen… and again, many other Viking. He had only barely touched you, not grabbed or assaulted you. His fingers then had gone from brushing to barely pulling, finally making contact with just enough of the fabric to pinch it. He tugged the fabric towards him and you felt yourself unable to pull away. Your blood chilled as he summoned you with just an inch of your sleeve nipped between his fingers. 

You'd dared to look up then, thinking if you faced that which made you afraid it might be less so. His eyes were started off as a good place, so very light blue they were breathtaking, and you tried to find comfort in their beauty, but they were glassy and dull, unfocused with drink. Again, he didn't attack you in anyway, but now that you were close enough, he slid a slow, hulking hand under your arm and led you down the hall. He walked with you past one bedroom, the sounds of some other couple's moans filtering through the door, but found the next door open and room empty. He shut the door slowly behind you, made his way quietly to you and tugged off your dress. 

There was a low fire in the hearth and you were glad for its warmth as goosebumps speckled your skin. He slid off his pants and tunic, exposing his very ready and intimidatingly proportionate sex. At the sight, your own, sore and just so recently used, clenched in apprehension. "Down," was all he said, would be all he said, it turned out. You started to lay on your back on the bed, but he made a very low, almost inaudible sound in his throat, took you by the hips and arranged you onto all fours. You closed your eyes, heard him spit into his hand, cover himself with it. You figured you only had a moment to shut your eyes, bracing yourself, but again, his drunkenness made him weave as he tried to line up and you nearly rolled your eyes as your patience battled with your fear. Their common ground was wanting this over as soon as possible.  
He placed a large palm on the small of your back and finally found you. To offset his inebriation he thrusted hard, once, to ensure entrance. You gasped as pain seared to the backs of your eyes and you fell forward onto your elbows. He grasped at your hips, again slowly, so agonizingly slowly, you wondered how he'd survived a single battle. You noticed then that your body had betrayed you, or maybe in self preservation had somehow warmed to and slicked at his intrusion. Stigr must have felt it for he let out a long sigh and picked up his pace. You balled your fists into the furs, gritted your teeth and hoped that his enormity would at least be mitigated by his speed in climaxing.


	2. A Man for Real

You’d heard another thrall say once that many men lost their desire completely with too much ale, and others finished within a minute. As your elbows and forehead were pounded relentlessly into the mattress, you cursed your lot in life at getting the one Viking who’d the gods had empowered with the opposite in both regards. You let out a long sigh, resigning yourself to it. Encouraged by the noise or some reflexive contraction of yours, Stigr groaned and slammed into you three times. He hit your deep insides so hard with all three, that on the last, you’d yelped and tore away from him. You didn’t even think of the risk in doing it, you’d simply HAD to. You’d twisted away from him and fell onto your behind, looking up at him. His slap across your mouth was so fast, so in contrast to his mild, slow physicality thus far, that your first thought was that he truly hadn’t meant to. Your hand flew to your mouth, your tongue darted to your lip, and you tasted blood. You sat there gaping, wondering what he’d do next. He just stood there on his knees, barrel chest heaving, eyes nearly blank, but in the firelight you sensed a small flicker of sadness, defeat. Steeling yourself against more discomfort but curiously, wanting to resolve that ache in his eyes, you reached out, took his hand, sunk to the furs onto your back, pulling him with you. 

He entered you cautiously and you shifted under him, nearly unable to breathe. A small whimper escaped you and thinking you were in pain again, he nearly pulled out and gave up. You grabbed his ass in both hands though and guided him back deeper. You sucked in your breath again and shifted under him this time making it more obvious you simply needed him to not lay all his weight on your chest. He struggled up onto his forearms. Grateful for breath and freedom of some movement, you wrapped your legs around his hips, marveling that you barely could, he was so big. He thrust into you at a medium pace, his face buried in your neck and now that you weren’t focused on the pain, you took a moment to survey his body. He was the largest man you’d ever really taken account of, but wasn’t fat by any stretch. He wasn’t as lean as either of the Taitssons, Ulf being downright skinny, you thought, remembering how you’d felt the line of every sinew in his back and arms as he’d poached your innocence. Rangvar was younger, slightly bigger, but still just of average stock. Stigr was so different from those mere boys, practically the same age but so much more of an actual man when nestled within your thighs, you almost felt like this was the first man you’d really ever had, like you were losing your virginity for real. While you still wouldn’t say the experience was pleasurable, it certainly wasn’t awful anymore as your body had stretched to accommodate him, feeling simply satisfyingly full, and any pain had numbed. If you were enjoying any part of it, it was running your hands over his thick, muscular arms and shoulder blades. Starting at his elbows and feeling the joints lever back and forth as he drove into you, you trailed your long fingers up then over the backs of his arms, switching then to sliding your palms over them, your small hands cupping them, then up and over the shoulder, and ending by kneading his shoulder blade muscles, pressing him into you slightly harder. 

Some of the numbness in your core from his initial assault began to wear off then and you began to throb with discomfort where you were joined. The throbbing turned into an unyielding pressure and you neither knew what it what or what to do with it. You wished desperately for the experience and knowledge to do something besides just lay there and let him enjoy you and it wasn’t just that your body, exhausted and sore needed it to end. The thought shocked and thrilled you with its novelty, but you wanted to make him feel good and you knew naturally, somehow, he could do the same for you. You decided to take a wild guess and arched your back as much as you could under his weight, pushed your hips back against his. You mirrored his movements, copying what he did, just one step behind. He paused for a moment and you froze, thinking you’d done something wrong. A smile spread across your face as he growled pleasurably, buried his head back into your neck, resumed his motions. With a low groan, while digging his feet into the mattress, scrabbling for grip, his hips stuttered against you. He finished within you, extending into a thrust so deep, you squeaked and your toes flexed. 

As he caught his breath, he nuzzled the skin just under your ear with his nose, almost tenderly you wondered? Then his weight was crushing you again and you tried to shift beneath him enough to communicate you need to move. Your actions were useless though as the next sound in your ear was his light snoring. Had it not been for an intense need for air, you might have liked to stay right there, in a warm bed, locked in his grip all night. You almost chuckled at your situation now though, completely trapped under him until wave of claustrophobia shuddered through you. His weight got heavier when he slipped into more of an ale and sex induced coma. You ungracefully shuffled and shifted out from beneath him trying not to disturb him. He didn’t move a bit and you smiled at how completely useless a woman and drink could render a man. 

The fire was nearly out now and without the heat of Stigr against you, you shivered. He was laying on most of the furs, and was too heavy for you to move them, but you found one large one had slipped off the bed and you pulled it up over you both. It was a large bear skin, and fit over him almost as if it were his own. There was just enough room for you to slip sideways along side of him and both be warm. He was practically dead to the world, so very asleep, and you felt a heaviness overcome your limbs and eyelids as well. Your brain betrayed you though then with the need to review everything that had happened. When you’d first had sex with Ulf, it was so uneventful and practically boring, you’d shrugged and thought it’d be fine if you never had it again. Rangvar was about the same, different man, different body, but left you with the same feeling. Hagen was slightly interesting, at least smiling, laughing, flirting with you in the hall, trying to seduce you a bit. You’d felt like a new world had opened up to you, that of a woman and you enjoyed the thrill of seeing, feeling, one way men and women interacted. Although Hagen was a bold personality, funny, jovial and interesting, teasing you kindly in the Hall, praising you privately in the bedroom as he’d whispered you were beautiful, that you felt incredible, the sex itself had again left you flat. 

And then there was Stigr. 

He’d coaxed out nearly every emotion in you in the span of thirty minutes, and only having said one single word. The first emotion, unfortunately, was with fear at his size, then curiosity at his quiet, a blessed moment of peace at his gentleness when he led you down the hall, shame at feeling stupid when he’d wanted you on all fours, then searing pain as he’d entered you, hurt and fear when he’d hit you, but then, and this was the most confusing, the tenderness you’d felt when you saw the look in his eyes after. That had led you to take him, surprisingly within you again, which then was almost enjoyable. It had ended with a perplexing pressure for you, like you were missing something, like something was on the verge of happening but you couldn’t imagine what. Then he’d come and you’d been flooded with relief and pride. 

It was too many complicated feelings to figure out right now, was late you decided and you had a long morning of cleaning up the hall and preparing for the second night of celebrations. Queen Lagertha was so pleased with the battle victory she’d granted everyone another night of feasting. You were left hoping you could slip off into the shadows at the end of the night as you knew your sore privates probably couldn’t take even a young Taitsson right now. And so you'd let your eyes close, your overused body rest, and your mind still. 

You woke up just before dawn, even though you’d probably gotten barely four hours sleep, your servant’s mind was just used to waking up that early. Stigr, roused ever so slightly by your waking, had sighed and you’d furrowed your brows when a small place in your chest stirred at the sound. You shook off your odd reaction, slid as quietly as you could from the bed and into your dress. Just before you slipped out of the room, you looked back at him. He was on his stomach, one massive arm above his head. He was still a mammoth of a man, but you smiled that he seemed a little less intimidating, a little more human to you in the early bluish light.


	3. The Invader

The thought was nice, but as you approached the kitchen, a day of work and another night of more teasing, groping, dragged your spirits back down and you noticed how sore you were between your legs. When you winced at it, you tore the small cut on your lip open again. You started gathering up a few unwashed plates and cups and were grateful when Eira, another thrall found and handed you one she’d found that was full of ale. You smiled gratefully, chugged it and even though it tasted like it had been indeed, sitting out all night, it’s warmth spread through your belly making you feel much improved. Eira was very kind, beautiful and a few years older than you. She seemed so confident in your shared role and you decided then to make her a friend and follow her lead. 

Later, just as the evening was about to begin and you and the other girls were getting ready, achieving the delicate balance between pretty enough to please the Queen without attracting any more Viking than necessary, you’d asked Eira if your cut lip looked awful. She’d sat you down, and while helping to braid your hair, given you a few tips about men. You’d listened, wide eyed as a deer, but when you all walked back into the hall a little while later, your shoulders were straighter and you felt almost like you were full of delicious secrets and could take on any of these men. As your eyes fell on Stigr, you realized there was only one whose body you wanted to whisper these secrets to. For the third time in a few hours, you were shocked and confused at yourself. He was gargantuan, you were tiny. He was a few years older, experienced, you were as new as a bud in spring, and most of all, he had been somewhat rough with you… regardless of his size, he had slapped you, made you bleed. But for some reason, as your eyes traveled over his arms you wanted him to pull you into them. As you looked at his lips, you wanted them on yours. He hadn’t kissed you at all last night and you found yourself longing for it. You crinkled your nose. Was this love? The things Eira had told you to try tonight had shocked you, but as you imagined them again now, your hands on Stigr, your mouth on him, you found they weren’t as intimidating or weird. You wanted to show him you could do so much more for him than just lay there as you had last night. You knew you were more than just your newly discovered womanhood and wanted him to see it. As you grabbed a pitcher of ale, you set your shoulders towards him with that very intent. 

Unfortunately, as you poured his ale, smiled and tried to catch his eye, he seemed to genuinely have absolutely no idea who you were. Your shoulders slumped a bit as you took up the cup of Ásgeirr, a young brown haired Viking who was your older brother’s best friend.  
“Hey! Bergljot!” He called from across the table amicably. He’d known you since you were a baby and had always been a kind soul. You smiled knowing you wouldn’t get any trouble out of him tonight. You nodded and smiled at him, but winced again at the cut on your lip.  
“Hey! What’d you do to your lip?” He asked loudly over the din of Viking greeting each other around him. You shook your head shyly, not wanting to draw attention to it, but Ásgeirr crossed around the table and held your chin in his hands. His eyes widened as he held your face closer to one of the fat lamps on the table and saw the bruise there as well. You swatted his hand away as gently as you could, turned your face away. “Really, Ásgeirr, it’s nothing. Just an accident.” You glanced over at Stigr who had begun to pay attention. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of your lip and of your failing attempts at discretion. Ásgeirr’s heart was in the right place but you wanted to crawl under the table when he tossed an arm around you and called out “If any man here wants to lay claim to the damage of my dear friend Bergljot’s face, let him come forward now and I shall fight him out in the street.” You pulled at his shirt desperately and then when he wouldn’t stop, you tried to hide behind it. “She’s a beautiful young thrall, worthy of your love and of your gentle hands!” He pulled you out from behind himself, kissed you on the cheek. At that, a few of the men chuckled, cheered and toasted you with lascivious looks. You peeped out from behind Ásgeirr’s shoulder at Stigr, your face burning. His face was one of horror at himself as he quickly pieced together the drunken memories of the evening prior. He quickly tossed back the rest of the cup he was holding. The attentions upon you died down as some celebrated warrior entered just then and the men, turning, toasted and cheered his entrance. You made your way to Stigr only because you’d seen him finish his drink. 

As you filled it, you felt those crystalline blue eyes boring into you. “Bergljot, is it?” Three whole words and this time, one of them your name on his lips and not a drunken command! Your heart soared at his low, even voice. You swallowed and gathered the courage to look into his eyes. Oh gods, they were as beautiful as you remembered, but now clear with sobriety and so kind.  
“Yes.” you managed to answer. He shifted in his chair, so tall he was nearly a head taller than you even when sitting. He spoke very firmly, but quietly so none of the other men could hear.  
“Was that me that marred you so?” The shame edging his words made your heart flutter. “Last night, late?” he clarified. You nodded, jumped to defend him. “Yes, yes sir, but I, you- well…” your innocence shamed you into not being able to say well, sir, your cock was so large that it rammed into my womb and I jumped straight off of you. Your cheeks burned though when he seemed to know exactly what you were to embarrassed to say. He cleared his throat and patted your arm at your side. “I’m very sorry. Bergljot.” He’d paused before saying your name again, not that he’d forgotten it but outlining clearly that he’d enjoyed saying it as much as you liked hearing it. He dropped his voice even lower, but this time all shame was gone from his voice and body. “You’re still beautiful.” The confidence with which he said it, paired with the secretive volume sent a ripple of pleasure to your toes. Regrettably, someone from the next table called for ale and with a quick smile to Stigr, you scooted off. 

The two of you spent the rest of the evening stealing glances at each other and trying to catch one another’s eye. He didn’t get up the courage to touch you again, but as you poured his fourth horn cup of ale, you noticed one of his hands ball up on his thigh as you approached, almost hidden in the shadow of the table. You smiled at his adorable struggle.  
“Would you like a drink, Bergljot?” he offered, holding out the cup you’d just poured. Knowing how he could be when drunk, you gladly accepted if if would keep him a little more sober tonight. As you took a sip, some small, wormlike hand snaked around your waist and you choked on the ale. You looked at Stigr and saw he was looking at whomever grabbed you, eyes flaring.  
“I promise to honor your beauty with gentle hands, my dear...” the man grabbing you cooed into your ear, but his tone defied him and your blood ran cold.


	4. This is When Most Women Run

You twisted in the invader’s grip, looked over your shoulder. He was a small, wiry man you knew vaguely as Reginmundr. He wasn’t around the village much, living far in the hills, but from what other thralls told you, you did NOT want him pulling you into his bed tonight. He was known to be nearly as vicious and twisted as Ivar Ragnarsson but without the good looks. Stigr recognized him too and quickly pulled you onto his lap, making you whoop out a breath. The other man yielded instantly to Stigr, frowning but releasing you and slinking backwards into the crowd. You weren’t sure what stirred your blood more in that moment, Stigr himself or other people’s reactions to him. As Stigr’s hand went to rest protectively on your thigh, you knew instantly, it was him. All him.

Now that you were in Stigr’s lap, he shifted again, a little unsure what to do with you. He cleared his throat.

“Sorry if I frightened you. I just didn’t like the way he was touching you.”

You felt a boldness sweep through you, you twisted towards him, reached out, touched that white-blond hair at his temples and ran your fingers further up into his scalp. Your index finger hit a braid that started there, just above his ear, one of three braided tight against his scalp, sweeping his hair off his face. You were glad for them, the full view of his eyes, broad forehead and strong jawline all making your breath hitch in your chest. You were so focused on what he was doing to you that you didn’t even notice his look until a few moments later. Just the touch of your hand on his face, barely brushing his hair had him closing his eyes, sucking in a breath. His oversized hands tightened on your sides, overwhelming you with the thrill of vulnerability simply at their magnitude. But no, you thought then, it was that you felt safe in his grasp, not vulnerable at all and it was a lovely disparity to be at the mercy of someone’s size but feel utterly sheltered in their possession. He leaned into you then.

“I want to kiss you.” You felt your smile start in your lap, warm up through your chest and then spread across your face. You must have instinctively tilted your head towards him for his hands squeezed you again. “Not here.” he whispered so quietly he almost mouthed it. You tried to still your body enough so as not to leap up and run down the hallway with him. It took one very slow, three second breath for you to calm yourself enough to stand, grab his hand and walk slowly through the throngs of people. He was the giant, but you felt ten feet tall as the crowds parted. As you got closer to the edge of the crowds, closer to the secret and the solitude where you knew you’d finally kiss Stigr, your heart raced. The night was young and so the hallways were empty. So were the private rooms, you thought with a surge of excitement. Just to the right of one of the open doors is where you stopped, turned and looked up at him. He wrapped a hand around the small of your back and pulled him to him, lifting you up to your tiptoes. 

“I want to kiss you without anyone seeing, without you feeling like it was just a man taking a thrall for his own pleasure,” Stigr explained and your heart sped up. 

His lips enveloped yours then and his kiss was a cross of tender and wanting, hot and sweet and it made your brain scramble. It nearly made you drop to the ground in a heap and you were so thankful for his hands on your waist. Your eyelids felt heavy as you pulled away to look at him again. There was no way those few sips of ale made you this drunk… it was him and the promise of more of him that drove you dizzy. He pulled you instinctively closer to him and you squeaked when you bumped up against his obviously growing desire. He pulled back, his head hanging low and his eyes ashamed. 

“Bergljot, you don’t have to do this. I’ve already had you.” He quickly bit his lip when he realized how that could be taken, that you might be hurt he didn’t want to sleep with you again and he got flustered for a moment. “Not that I don’t want to, of course I’d love to be with you again… especially now that I can remember it…” he smirked then and you both burst into a chuckle. “I honestly just wanted to kiss you. I don’t think I got to last night.” 

You pulled him close, felt another rush of courage. “No, we didn’t and I want to kiss you too. So for now, just give me your mouth…” you deliberately trailed off and his eyebrows raised as he pulled you up to him again.  
“Just for now, eh?” he whispered teasingly.  
You smiled, felt a rush again at that voice of his, often so low, almost in a whisper but not an ounce of weakness in it. And it wasn’t really in contrast to his figure, it complimented it. He was so bold of body and stature, so one would expect a booming voice. His was still authoritative, it was the most powerful a whisper could be, the loudest you could imagine as it shot straight to your core. Somehow that voice made you brave and you suddenly wanted to do everything to him, everything Eira had suggested and wanted to figure out a few things for yourself, too. His lips were strong, soft and his tongue traveled around yours. You sucked in a breath when he took your lower lip into his and sunk his teeth into it, not painfully, just spectacularly claiming it. He dragged it, pulled it away, then you both opened your eyes as he released it. You locked eyes and both heaved out breaths of desire.  
“Stigr?” you ventured.  
“Yes, Bergljot?”  
“Take me in that bedroom right now or I might just have you on the floor of this hallway.” His hands snugged around your ass as you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around him. The movement shocked him and he had to push you up against the wall for a moment and crush your mouth again with another kiss. The cut on your lip stung as it reopened, but you couldn’t care less. He tasted the blood though and pulled away quickly with apologetic eyes. You grabbed the braids on either side of his face and looked deep into those eyes of sky blue. “Nothing hurts right now. Nothing could.”  
He knew with those words, you meant more than your lip. You could take all of him right now, roughly and it would be pleasure, all pleasure. He knew it too and kissing you again, snugging you tightly against him, he rushed into the empty bedroom and shut the door. He set you down and you both started undressing each other, hands getting tangled up, in one another’s way, and you chuckled as you kept trying anyway, desperate for each other’s skin. You finally managed to get his belts and tunic off and in the light from the fire, which was larger and brighter than last night, you gaped at his body. You’d seen it a little, felt some of it, been awestruck by all of it, but now in front of you with him allowing you to take full appraisal, and without the fear you’d had last night, you absolutely gaped at him. His shoulders and just above his chest were covered in tattoos, that you hadn’t noticed last night at all, it being too dark and you being too absorbed by fear. As your fingers remembered though from last night, he was not lean or ripped really, although you could see outlines of his muscles. But he wasn’t fat at all, the amount of it over his muscles was the perfect amount, you thought to yourself as you ran a hand over his bicep. You could still feel the immense muscles underneath it, but there was just enough softness over them, just enough for your hands to sink slightly into when you squeezed. Solid was simply the best word for him. 

He could tell you liked what you saw and he smiled. It seemed to encourage him to reach for you, untie the strings at your neck and let your dress fall to the floor. It was the first time you’d stood naked in front of a man, really anyone, and you felt some of your earlier courage dissipate. His eyes traveled across your skin and you saw the heat rise in them, making you feel a little better. You were slightly cold as Stigr was closer to the fire and he must have seen the goosebumps rise on you and your nipples stiffen for he sucked in his breath, grabbed your hand and pulled you to the hearth. He pulled two furs off the bed, to the floor and then guided you onto them.  
“The bed is too far from the fire and we’d have to cover up.” He explained.  
“I missed enjoying so much of you last night in my idiotic, drunken stupor. My mind is clear as a stream now and I want to see all of you in the firelight.” 

Although a little shy, you certainly enjoyed him worshiping your body with his eyes and the thoughts of his hands slowly exploring you made a flutter in your stomach that you neither recognized or understood, but loved… but your thoughts went back to what Eira had taught you this morning and you really wanted to try some of it on Stigr. 

“I missed out on some things last night too, Stigr,” you purred, feeling a well of bravery flow through you. Stigr smiled, tilting his head curiously at you as you placed a finger on his shoulder and pushed him down to his back. You felt a surge of power rush through your veins at that… you, tiny, inexperienced, you, half this man’s size could push him onto his back with a single digit. You felt more beautiful and powerful than your wildest imaginings as you reached down, shuffled him out of his pants. You took a deep breath at the size of him. You had seen that last night and it had terrified you. Now, with our newfound knowledge from Eira and the bond you felt growing between you and Stigr since he’d saved you from Reginmundr earlier, it wasn’t terrifying at all. It was of course still large, completely in scale with the rest of him, but now you looked at it as simply an extension of him, part of his beautiful body and one you wanted to bring pleasure to. You looked up, met his eyes.  
“This is when most women run.” He said, low, with a slightly sheepish smirk.


	5. Lay Back My Sweet

“Well, I’m not most women,” you breathed, wiggling yourself between his knees, on your own. Trying to remember everything Eira had said was hard when this glorious man was naked under you. You ran both hands over his stalwart thighs, enjoying the feeling of the muscles flex under your fingers. Just before you put your lips to the tip of him, you noticed a small drop at the tip form. Just like Eira said, you marveled! You swirled it around him with your tongue, enjoying the new salty taste. Then you gathered some spit from your cheeks and began working on him further. Just as Eira had told you, you relaxed your throat muscles, slid down the length of him in one slow, steady stroke. He sucked in a deep breath and you saw out of the corner of your vision, the muscles of his stomach flex and define deeply into long grooves.   
“Oh Gods! That’s for sure…” he moaned. You couldn’t quite take all of him, but used your hand for the base three inches and again, just as Eira said, as long as you coordinated the pace and grip as the same, he hadn’t been able to tell the difference. With your free hand, you reached down, cupped his balls and were just about to explore further back ever so slightly behind them when he groaned and shifted underneath you. The tone in his breath was slightly desperate. You were eager to show him what all you’d learned, taste more of him, but he grabbed your shoulders then, forced you off of him, panting. He pulled you up to face him, his look warm, sorry but insistent. “I don’t want to come yet and if you do that for ten more seconds, I’m sure as shit going to.” 

You smiled, your heart about burst with pride and you thanked the gods for Eira. You were going to have to talk more with her, learn more tricks to please him. Or, you thought, hopefully, just learn them together. There had to be things about men that weren’t universal, things you could just figure out by trying and loving him. You realized then that was far more exciting than trying out things she’d told you about and you hoped now for many more nights in his arms. 

He had laid you on your back and you pulled one thigh slightly over your womanhood, a little shy. Stigr laid next to you, on his side and trailed a finger up your other leg, along your stomach and up over one breast.   
“You’re beautiful, Bergljot, absolutely beautiful.” He leaned down and  
kissed you and you felt his hand trace the same line, in reverse this time and then his fingertips bury themselves in your dark curls. You gasped and he pulled away slightly, searched your eyes.   
“Does that hurt?”   
You shook your head and then smiled, embarrassed. He tipped your chin up.   
“What is it?”   
“No one has ever touched me there.”   
Stigr’s eyes went tender as he took his hands off of you. “Bergljot, did I take your virginity last night?” He looked as if he might be sick at the idea. You shook your head again, sat up on your elbows and one of your hands went tenderly to his jaw.   
“No, a few men have taken me, just a couple really, and no one I ever wanted. It was always for their own pleasure and quickly. None of them ever… focused on me.” Your eyes fell at that and Stigr sighed sadly. You looked up at him, and you completely melted at the look in his eyes, devoted to you and dedicated to your pleasure. 

“Lay back, my sweet. That’s exactly what we’re going to do now.” 

You lay back down, nervous, but body aflame at the prospect of that which was totally foreign to you, but you knew from his look, would only feel good. He stretched himself alongside of you, tucked his underside arm under his head and used his other to bump over one of your hipbones before delving back into the curls at the junction of your thighs. It felt nice, but you shifted, bit your lip and felt intensely vulnerable and naïve. Stigr, gods love him, sensed your embarrassment and leaned in to kiss you. At the touch of his lips, you delighted in the escape and melted into bliss. He stroked the outside of you in long lines, then circled and you gasped at the new sensation when he pressed hard on some mysterious spot just above your entrance. You felt him smile as he kissed you and it seemed to embolden him further. He slipped two fingers inside of you and you sucked in your breath as they hit your roughed up insides. It was such a strange combination of soreness and sweet pleasure you couldn’t think straight. The only other thought you had, one that almost made you chuckle was how two of his fingers were larger than the Taitssson boys’ entire cocks. You inhaled hard to fight off the chuckle and at the noise, Stigr pushed his fingers gently, but more urgently within you. You could tell he was holding back on his own desire, trying so hard not to hurt you and you loved him for it. A few more delving thrusts from his fingers and you must have made some minute whimper or pull of your face because he stopped entirely. You locked your gaze into his. 

“Are you terribly sore from me last night?” You nodded, bit your lip anxiously. “A bit.” 

“Can I kiss it?" He asked simply and sweetly. You pursed your lips together to keep from nervously giggling. Stigr moved from up by your face to between your knees, spread them apart, nestled himself between. Then as you stared wide-eyed over your own stomach, he took your left knee in his hand, lifted it slightly up and dragged his tongue down the inside of your thigh from your knee, making you toss your head back and arch your spine away from the furs. He stopped at and kissed the last tiny bit of skin on your the uppermost inner thigh, where there’d be a crease if your legs weren’t so wide open to accommodate his barrel chest. “I’m sorry for last night,” he said kissing the spot twice. He looked up at you for forgiveness and you gave it in a soundless, nod. You couldn’t have spoken for all the gold in Norway. 

He sucked the air out of his mouth, then, noisily, swallowed hard, and dragged his tongue along his front teeth making you narrow your eyes curiously… What on earth was he doing? He lapped his tongue once up your entrance, making you gasp again. Dazed, you realized that for that first stroke, he’d made his tongue purposefully dry so as to increase the friction on you. You could feel the musculature of it, and the bumps like that of a cat’s tongue as it pressed hard once against your most sensitive parts. You shivered underneath him again, this time not because of the cold air. He smiled against you and lapped again, this time your excitement coating his tongue and making for a wonderfully different, slippery sensation between you and his mouth. It was nonetheless as excruciatingly wonderful and you mewled out a desperate sigh. “I. won’t. ever. hurt. you.” He spaced out the sentence, each word between a lick, the vibration of each word sending a jolt snapping from where his mouth was to your brain. 

As he continued, you began to feel that strange same pressure down below from last night when he had been deep inside you, thrusting hard, and it confused you. It was almost a painful ache and you thought last night it was from his pounding into you. But he wasn’t inside you now, he was doing something that felt amazing and yet there was that pressure again. You shifted your hips, almost trying to get away from it, but felt yourself suddenly at the pressure’s mercy. It weighed you down, anchoring you to the furs, the floor, the earth below. And Stigr was affixed to you, to your body, you couldn’t escape it now if you’d wanted. The harder the pressure got, the more you wanted to find out what it was, what was on the other side of it. 

Your breath faltered and stuttered as he continued with his mouth on you, flicking his tongue expertly on one curious, tiny spot of you, one you hadn’t really known existed until now. 

But now that spot was your entire existence. 

The pressure increased and as a warmth spread over you, your hands went to his hair. You were torn between wanting to wrench him off of you or push his face further, harder. You went with the latter and were glad for it as the pressure finally released in a burst of tingling and shock spreading through you from your core to your fingertips and toes. You bucked against him, vaguely aware what your body was doing and the noises it was making. You had a vague notion of being embarrassed, but the pleasure kept you from caring. Stigr’s tongue slowed on you as your movements and breath stilled. He pulled himself off of you when your body jerked twice under him, reflexively, overcome with ecstasy. You looked up at him with heavy eyes and noticed his beard glistening a bit in the firelight before he swiped a hand over it. 

You lay flat on your back, limbs splayed out without a shred of the modesty you’d felt before. Your joints were practically paralyzed, feeling like they were weighed down with rocks. You smiled up at him and he smiled back, but his smile was different. Yours was one of pure elation. His was intense, tinged with pride at bringing you to your first release, and such a primal, powerful one. His grin was heavy with desire. He bent over you, his hands on either side of your head.   
“I have to be within you, Bergljot,” he almost pleaded. “Do you think you can take me?” You nodded, willed your arms and legs to move. Eyes wide, he slid onto his back, under you as you moved above, straddled him. 

He grabbed your hips so firmly, you instinctively knew he was nearing a point of no return, and you were ready to take him. He was the one though that stopped you though, squeezing your hips, and you knew in that grip, that he had an urgent message. You stopped, looked at him, letting him know you had to know what he needed before you could continue as well. 

He reached up, traced your lip cut gently. “Bergljot, I know you said you can’t feel any pain right now but are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” Your grin came straight from your heart at his words and his tender touch. You leaned down, buried your face in his neck, inhaled the manly, earthy scent of him, kissed gently twice, nipped once. He let out a small yelp and pulling back, you raised your eyebrows at him. “Hurt?” you asked and he smiled, nodding and licked his lips. “Want me to do it again?” you asked with a mischievous grin. He smirked and pulled you to him, understanding what you meant. “Yes.” he groaned. “Everywhere.” 

You perched yourself just over top of him, let his tip just barely graze you as you rocked him back and forth against your still slick opening, teased him with it, showing him just how ready you were for him. Then you leaned down further, kissed him deeply and when he took a needed breath, you plunged yourself onto him, sucking the air from him again. The soreness from the previous night was still there, but now that you knew Stigr, loved him, were tied to him with the giving and receiving of pleasure and tenderness, all that soreness was delicious.   
He moaned under you and not knowing what to do didn’t make you shy or awkward now. You just let his body and his noises lead you. When he moaned, you moved with his moan. When he shifted his hips, raised and rolled them against you, you did the same and moaned back against the feeling. When he reached up and ran his hands over your breasts, you sucked in your breath and threw your head back. Every action had a beautiful reaction, it didn’t matter what it was. You lost yourself in making love to him and there was no right or wrong. He began to rock less and hitch more, and you realized he was reveling in that same ecstatic pressure you’d felt earlier under his mouth. You didn’t care that you weren’t close to another one, you wanted him to swell and crest beneath you, then sink and drown in pleasure. You wanted to watch it in those nearly transparent blue eyes though, so you reached for his chin, and at your touch, those eyes opened. They were glassy again, this time not with drink, but with lust and need. You forced him to look at you, braced your hands on his shoulders, rolled your hips against him, then drove yourself against him hard, with every intention of simply releasing that pressure within him.   
Your own climax shocked you. You hadn’t even felt it building and when it slammed into you, you gasped, squealed and bucked against Stigr. He felt it deep within you and that undulation of your walls was all he needed to reach his own peak. All he cried out was a tender “ohhhh honeyyyyy” and its sweetness was like an arrow to your center. In those words, you knew he was eternally yours.


End file.
